It was late into the next day that I came upon it – a tent so large I could not fathom how it did not fly away in the formidable wind that day. I had always loved tents, since the one and only time Papa Boyt and his mother, Mrs. Boyt, took me to the circus. I remember the tigers and clowns who romped there. The memory of that spun into me out of nowhere and I stopped to catch my breath. How could I forget this, and what else was likewise hidden away from me – what things did I not know I knew? The mind was fearful terrain. I did not want to think what it might do. I brushed my trousers down and was surprised at the swell of dust rising off me. I pulled my jacket off and snapped it a few times to get rid of this strange memory of Papa number two.
There were people milling about. I came up
